


overdue comfort

by iamnotalizard



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Background Bato/Hakoda - Freeform, Bonding, Comfort, Emotional Healing, Fluff, Gen, Whats Better Than This Just An Uncle Becoming A Dad And Loving His Nephew, trans Bato, trans bato gang never sleeps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28157787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotalizard/pseuds/iamnotalizard
Summary: Nanuq looks so much like his mother, with his wide eyes, his flat, wide nose, and soft rounded cheeks paint him a perfect replica of Bato’s sister in her youth. Bato looks at him for a moment, wonders what some of the village elders must think when they see him and Nanuq together. Bato, aged and tired, with the ghost of his childhood sister.
Relationships: Bato (Avatar) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: MMEU Winter Solstice Exchange 2020, Meteor Mutual Club Extended Universe: The Originals





	overdue comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leoperidot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoperidot/gifts).



> Starring the MMCEU OC: nanuq, bato's nephew (also known at the kid in the 1st episode who says, "I gotta pee" and "show no fear!" to sokka. Sometimes a background, throwaway character can be so personal)  
> thank you to eastaustraliancurrent (on tumblr and ao3) for betaing this!

Bato smiles and lets out a placating sigh as he turns away from Hakoda. His eyes dart across the snowy terrain, ignoring the small throng of children running around and playing.

“Bato!” he hears again, and he turns his head a little more to see Nanuq. He smiles, seeing the messy, spiky haircut bob up and down as the little one waves and bounces. “Are you looking, Bato?”

“I’m looking,” Bato calls back, ignoring the chuckle that Hakoda lets out. It’s been like this ever since the men returned from war and Nanuq threw himself in Bato’s arm, face crinkled with tears and snot as he sniffled into Bato’s anorak. 

Nanuq had scarcely let go of Bato for the whole first week that he was back, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, trailing behind him even as Bato attended truly boring meetings, and watching with wide, worried eyes as he got Hakoda to help him tend to his burned arm. Even all these months later he doesn’t stray too far from Bato’s sights.

Bato supposes it’s par for the course. Nanuq was so young when he had to leave, the ache from his mother’s death still present and piercing. Bato’s absence couldn’t have been easy to understand. It’s natural that he’d latch onto him now that he’s back.  
  
(Truthfully, Bato can’t find that he minds the insistent shouts and grabby hands that Nanuq makes for him at all hours of the day. Often Bato will sit on the floor of their igloo and hold Nanuq against his chest, letting his nephew play with his long hair as he rubs his back, whispering stories from his childhood. Nanuq is so much bigger than Bato left him, and already he’s starting to outgrow Bato’s lap. Sometimes he wonders how many embraces with his nephew he has left and how many he missed out on while he was fighting.)

“Okay,” Nanuq shouts back, “Keep watching!” 

He turns slightly and starts moving his arms in clumsy circles and jerky motions. Bato tilts his head, confused at the display, and he hears Hakoda mutter, “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t—” Bato begins, before the words die in his throat as the snow in front of Nanuq’s little booted feet turns to water, floats up in a tiny ball before splashing back down to the snow, freezing almost immediately. As soon as the water hits the snow, Nanuq begins to skip back towards Bato, giggling as he moves.

Bato gapes, feeling a rush of fear and dread and anguish before he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be scared for Nanuq.

Nanuq plows into Bato’s legs, arms wrapping around them as he stares up and grins.

“Did you see?” he asks, still giggling. 

“Yeah, I saw,” Bato says, voice feeling a little far away. “When’d you learn to do that, Nanuq?”

“Katara taught me!” he supplies cheerfully. He grins, showing off a new gap between his front teeth. Bato blinks a few times, and faintly he can hear Hakoda trying to cover up his laughter with coughs.

Nanuq blinks up at Bato, his eyes big and brown and so full of love that Bato thinks he could drown in it. With a mitted hand, Bato caresses the boy’s hair.

“It was very good. Katara must be a good teacher.”

Nanuq nods happily, chirps out a “Yeah!” before releasing Bato’s legs and running off to play with the other kids again. Bato waits until his nephew is a suitable distance away before turning to Hakoda. He looks at Hakoda’s face, his lips pursed and eyes nearly watering from trying to contain laughter. 

“Don’t say anything,” Bato mutters, just as Hakoda lets out a bark of laughter. He wheezes and slaps a hand on Bato’s shoulder, body hunching in on itself as he giggles. Bato grumbles as he holds Hakoda’s elbow, making sure that he doesn’t slip and fall. 

After a few minutes, Hakoda stands up and wipes a few stray tears from his cheeks. 

“I feel like you deserve this,” he says. Bato remembers when Katara first started waterbending, how stressed Hakoda and Kya were whenever their daughter melted something that really ought to remain frozen or when she turned the fluffiest snow into hard-packed ice. 

Bato had laughed at his friend’s panic at the time, giggled while he helped fix any damages when they occurred or whenever he had to help Hakoda dry Sokka off after a snow-turned-water fight. While Katara’s bending undoubtedly gave Hakoda a few grey hairs, Bato is sure that his taunting caused a few more. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

  
  
  


After watching Katara grow up and all the havoc she caused— sometimes by mistake, sometimes on purpose— Bato started fearing the worst. His attention was split between Nanuq and whatever he was doing at all times, watching carefully to make sure he didn’t destroy an igloo while playing games or that he didn’t turn snow into spikes every time he sneezed. 

Bato’s pleasantly surprised when Nanuq exercises much more control than Katara did at his age, but he supposes that it’s because Katara had to learn control by herself.

“Uncle Bato, look what Katara taught me,” Nanuq will often say, barging in on whatever meeting or conversation Bato is having. He’ll smile apologetically before turning to his nephew.

“What’s that, dearest?” Bato watches as Nanuq furrows his eyebrows, sticks his tongue out, before doing some motions and lifting a small stream of water or making fresh snow appear in his hand. 

Bato smiles every time, leans down to ruffle his hair— _I need to start shaving the sides of his head_ , Bato often thinks, though it hurts him to see the last traces of Nanuq’s youth disappear— and kissing him on the forehead. Nanuq preens and stands on his tiptoes as Bato pulls away. 

“Very impressive. Why don’t you go back to Katara and Sokka, and you can show me more when you’re done.”

“Okay!” he says, happy as ever, before running back out of the tent. 

Bato knows that the men who aren’t from their tribe question it— the Fire Nation officials that have come to negotiate what supplies they need and the men from the North that are helping them rebuild. They wonder about Bato’s focus, his relation to Nanuq and to Hakoda, and they question whether Bato can do what needs to be done while he cares for a child alone. But they don’t yet question his authority. Bato straightens his expression back to one of neutral annoyance as he turns back to the others. The meeting continues.

  
  
  


Bato winces as Nanuq wiggles in his arms. The boy had started to complain about being tired not even twenty minutes into the walk to the fishing hole. As much as Bato told him that they would be there soon, Nanuq’s whines and pleading wore him down much faster than they had any right to. He knows that Atka, Nanuq’s mother, would be wheezing with laughter if she could see how much of a pushover her older brother has become. 

Nanuq squirms again in his effort to get comfortable, and Bato feels his arm ache under the strain. Even with all the waterbending healing, the salves, and time that has passed, it still twinges with pain every now and again. At one point Sokka suggested it might be the cold air that made the scarred skin tighten, and sometimes when a cold breeze managed to sneak its way up the anorak’s armholes, Bato was inclined to agree. 

Hakoda looks back at Bato, smiling faintly as he slows his pace, letting Katara and Sokka lead the way. The two of them are talking so animatedly they don’t even notice that they’ve lost the adults. Hakoda waits until Bato has caught up to him.

“Tired already, Nanuq?” Hakoda asks the furry lump that pressed against Bato’s chest. Nanuq turns his head, eyes and nose barely visible between the criss-cross of furs keeping him warm. 

“Just a little, Uncle ‘Koda.” The reply is muffled. Bato rolls his eyes.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have stayed up at the campfire so late.” Bato scolds, though there’s no real heat behind the words. 

“But Sokka was telling a story!”

“I’m sure Sokka would be happy to tell you stories whenever you want,” Hakoda interrupts. Even with his face covered, the smile in Nanuq’s voice is audible when he replies, “Really?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

Nanuq wiggles again as he attempts to clap and Bato grimaces as he tries to keep his grip. Hakoda’s eyes soften and he places a comforting hand on Bato’s back.

“Wanna switch?” He offers, making a vague gesture to the various fishing poles and spears that he has tied into a bundle across his back. Instinctually Bato wants to say no, don’t bother, Koda, it’s fine, but Nanuq seems excited at the prospect of switching arms as he stretches out towards Hakoda.

“Yeah, Uncle Koda!”

Hakoda grins and they spend a minute fumbling to switch armfuls. Eventually, Bato has their supplies comfortably slung across his back, and Hakoda seems right at home with a child in his arms, cooing and laughing with Nanuq as he resumes his squirming. 

When they finally catch up to Sokka and Katara, they ask them why they took so long, before Nanuq launches himself out of Hakoda’s arms and latches onto Katara, asking her to show him how to make fish float. 

They catch enough— not a great haul, but not a bad one— and Nanuq is so tired by the time they head back that he nods off to sleep in Bato’s arms. Overall, he considers the trip a success. 

  
  
  


Nanuq doesn’t mention the fact that Bato left him very often. He’ll cling to Sokka and ask him to display his warrior skills, trail behind Katara begging her to teach him Northern Style or “Swamp Style” water bending, he’ll even ask Hakoda to tell him stories about the Earth Kingdom. But he doesn’t ask Bato about his time away, doesn’t like to bring up the gaps in their relationship, and doesn’t ask him to retell his stories of war. 

Sometimes Bato is glad. He still wakes up in the night, body tense and sweating, convinced that he has to get up and fight, to check a perimeter and to make sure that his comrades aren’t dead. His arm is still scarred— it always will be— and there’s an ache deep inside him that Bato thinks will never go away. It’s nice that he can pretend that one part of his life, one person, hasn’t been touched by the war, like Bato has. 

Of course, he knows it’s not true. Nanuq looks up to the sky with wide fearful eyes every time a Fire Nation delegation arrives, bringing with it snowy soot. Nanuq no longer plays war with his friends with as much vigour and pep as he used to. And Bato would be a fool to think that Nanuq’s clinginess was derived from anything other than anxiety and fear. 

Hakoda gives an apologetic shrug when Bato expresses his concerns to him. They’re laying in Hakoda’s bed of furs, for once free of any chiefly or parental duties. Bato relaxes into the sensation of Hakoda’s strong arms around him, his calloused fingers drawing nonsense patterns on his back as Bato leans against his chest. Their difference in height means that Bato has to bend his legs to avoid his feet being exposed to the air, but Bato can ignore the future cramps if it means getting to feel as safe and loved as he does right now. 

“I don’t really know how to help,” Hakoda says, petting Bato’s hair and tucking it behind his ear. “Sokka and Katara were, uh, obviously much older when I left and came back. And, I mean, you and Kanna helped a lot when Kya died so…”

Bato sighs. “I get it.”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job,” Hakoda offers, pressing a kiss to Bato’s head, something he can only do when they’re both laying down. Bato sighs again and presses his face into Hakoda’s chest. Atka’s death felt like an old injury that never healed, both distant and dull and hurting at the most inopportune times with surprising intensity. 

Bato loved his little sister, no matter how different they were in appearance, personality, and opinion sometimes. When Nanuq was born Bato was excited to play the role of uncle and spend time with his sister and her family. When he had to leave, Atka was angry at him— angry that he was leaving her and Nanuq, that Bato couldn’t find the words to explain where he was going to the child, and that he couldn’t promise his return. It was love that made Atka spit bitter words at him, threatening him to come back alive or else she would tear him a new one. 

He had come back to find Nanuq alone. It hurts Bato to think about how many years Nanuq was left alone, wondering if Bato would ever come back, and the months of loneliness he must have felt without a mother and without Sokka and Katara treating him like their littlest brother. 

But now Bato was back, and with him, he brought Hakoda and Sokka and Katara. Three people who loved Nanuq as much as Bato did and all of whom Nanuq loved back. 

“Do you really think so?” Bato asks, mumbling into Hakoda’s skin. His lips tingle from the vibrations of Hakoda’s laughter at his uncharacteristic self-consciousness.

“Yeah, I think so.”

  
  


Bato makes shushing noises as he runs the razor over the side of Nanuq’s head. His nephew’s face scrunches up as he tries not to wiggle beneath Bato’s careful hands. 

“Almost done,” Bato says, trying to quell Nanuq’s impatience. The boy was excited to get the sides of his head shaved and the top braided, right up until Bato sat him down and started tugging at his hair. “Just a little more and then you’re done.”

Nanuq lets out another whine before huffing, ceasing his movements when Bato gives his ear a little pinch. After a few more strokes and twists, Bato dusts off a few stray hairs at the side of Nanuq’s head and delicately rearranges the new braids until they’re suited for a boy of Nanuq’s age. 

Bato takes a moment and looks at Nanuq, still sitting as still as he can, eyes scrunched up to avoid any falling hair. Nanuq looks so much like his mother, who got her looks from Bato’s father. Nanuq’s wide eyes, his flat, wide nose, and soft rounded cheeks paint him a perfect replica of Bato’s sister in her youth. Bato looks at him for a moment, wonders what some of the village elders must think when they see him and Nanuq together. Bato, aged and tired, with the ghost of his childhood sister.

“Look at you, my little warrior,” Bato says, petting his freshly styled hair, probably ruining some of the work he just did. Nanuq grins at the nickname, no doubt excited to tell Sokka that he’s a _warrior_ now, as soon as Bato frees him from his grasp. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you, Bato,” Nanuq replies. “Is this what your hair used to look like?”

Bato tilts his head slightly and purses his lips. “Not really. I had hair kind of like Katara’s until I was thirteen and then I started wearing my hair kind of like this.” He points towards his own hair.

Nanuq pouts. “When do I get to wear my hair like yours?”

Bato laughs at how eager his little boy is to grow up. He scoops Nanuq into his lap and wraps his arms around him in a loose hug. “Hm, you get to stop shaving your head if you want after you go ice dodging.”

“Can we go ice dodging then?”

“No, little one,” Bato says, laughing just a bit. “You’re too small.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Nanuq, you’re barely taller than the rudder. You couldn’t steer it if you wanted to.”

Nanuq pouts some more before looking down dejectedly. Bato frowns as well. He still isn’t as well versed with dealing with Nanuq when he is sad or throwing a tantrum. Instead, he usually had to wait until Hakoda came to see why there was so much screaming coming from his igloo, and Bato would watch as the veteran father between the two of them managed to calm down the new addition to their family within minutes. 

Nanuq’s frowning persists for a few more minutes but doesn’t escalate to anything more. He lets Bato pull a parka over his head and grabs his hand as they leave their home. Nanuq abandons his frown by the time he sees Katara, and happily tugs on Bato’s hand in an effort to get him to walk faster. 

Bato smiles as he watches his nephew hurry to reach her, nearly jumping with excitement at the prospect of squeezing a few waterbending lessons out of her. Bato, for all his capabilities in strategizing and planning, will never claim to understand the leaps, the twists and turns that happen inside Nanuq’s mind. His ability to switch from near-tears to an excitable little monster is adorable and strange to Bato’s ageing eyes. 

He appreciates Nanuq’s ability to put things behind him, at least for a little while. Bato hopes that his disappearance from and emergence back into his life doesn’t have anything to do with it. 

  
  
  


Bato’s favourite time of the day is the precious few hours before bedtime in the winter. The time after dinner, when it’s too dark to do any more work outside when everyone is huddled, comfortable, inside their homes, doing the mending or the cleaning for the day or just relaxing. He thinks that the fire always seems a little friendly in the evening, glows softer and more warmly, brushing Bato with enough heat that he can shed a few layers. The first deep inhale after taking off the binding that encompasses his chest is a feeling that Bato has grown to appreciate more than he ever thought he would. 

Sometimes, Hakoda, Kanna, Sokka, and Katara are over in the evenings. Sometimes someone else from the village is. Most of the time it’s just Bato and Nanuq enjoying each other's company. After a long day of play, chores and learning, Nanuq quickly tires under the pressure of Bato’s low, a soothing voice talking to him, and the hypnotic crackle and sway of the flames. Sewing lessons, hair braiding, and stories are often interrupted by drooping eyelids and a head that is nodding off to sleep. 

Bato likes the calm of these evenings, the fact, that for a little while, it’s just him and the little boy that he loves, hidden away from the world as they talk and laugh and, very rarely, cry together. Bato also likes these evenings because Nanuq never looks as young as he does when he’s moments away from sleep. His youthful face relaxed with exhaustion, long eyelashes spread against his cheeks, his hands loosely holding onto Bato as he carefully lays him down in bed. 

Sometimes Nanuq asks to go to Bato’s bed, to cuddle with him until he’s drifted off the sleep. Even though Bato often has more work to do, more documents to look over, more chores to complete, he relents under the weight of Nanuq’s big, sleepy eyes and pouty lips, asking him oh-so-sweetly. 

Nanuq cuddles against Bato’s side, his little body pressed tightly against him, his hands gripping Bato’s shirt. It’s enough that Bato can pretend that Nanuq is many years younger than he is, that Bato is simply visiting his sister, and that the reason why Bato can’t feel his arm is that it’s gone to sleep under Nanuq’s weight. 

Bato peers down at the dark mop of hair, braided and beaded and shaved with more care than Nanuq will realize. _Soon, he’ll be too big for this,_ Bato thinks. It’s a thought he thinks often, the sentiment lacing through even his happiest moments with the boy. Soon, Nanuq will grow older, and Bato won’t be able to reclaim any of the time he missed.

The fact that Bato won’t lose any more time with Nanuq to the war is his only reprieve. 

Still, looking down at Nanuq’s innocent, sleeping face, calm in a way he never truly is when he’s awake, Bato pushes those thoughts out of his mind. He squirms a little to press a kiss to Nanuq’s head, takes a moment to press his cheek against his soft hair and tries to remember this moment exactly as it is.

**Author's Note:**

> head empty, only mmeu now


End file.
